


The Way We Love

by Spooks_on_Parade



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Making Love, Married Couple, Meditative sex, Outdoor Sex, POV First Person, Tantric Sex, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooks_on_Parade/pseuds/Spooks_on_Parade
Summary: Persephone is sitting within the cradle of my folded legs, facing me with her own legs wrapped loosely around my hips, pressed against my skin. They feel so smooth. Everything about her is soft and vulnerable right now, even the way she's touching me. I love that she trusts me enough to be with me this way.
Relationships: Hades & Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades & Persephone (Lore Olympus), Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 158





	The Way We Love

Breathe in... My lungs fill to capacity with the sultry, midsommer air. The sensation of stretching pulls all the way down into my abdomen as my diaphragm contracts. 

Hold it... This part always stings a little bit. A dull sting. Like it couldn't be bothered to actually hurt, but it's still not exactly pleasant.

Breathe out... A much welcomed, muscle-thawing release — at least until the panic starts to creep in while waiting my turn to suck in more oxygen.

Breathe in — hold, two, three —

That's maybe a slight exaggeration — it's really not so bad. Slowing down is just a bit nerve wracking for me, but the pay-off is more than worth it.

— and out.

What isn't an exaggeration, though, is the loss of sensation in my legs. It feels... not quite like floating, more like being suspended — like the ground has been pulled away, but I haven't moved. Which is actually rather relaxing considering that I'm sitting naked on the hard ground. It's nice not feeling the prickly grass stabbing me anymore — making me itch.

Breathe in — two, three — and out.

I can feel my heart thumping heavily throughout my entire body, to the point where it seems like I can almost watch my pulse tinge the edges of my vision. I'm aware of the rhythmic throb around every single bone in my extremities, and yes, even the one so aptly named, though lacking it's own skeletal support.

In — two, three — and out.

Persephone is sitting within the cradle of my folded legs, facing me with her own legs wrapped loosely around my hips, pressed against my skin. They feel so smooth. Everything about her is soft and vulnerable right now, even the way she's touching me. I love that she trusts me enough to be with me this way. Her palm is flat against my sternum, and mine against hers, hot and a bit steamy from the summer heat. I can feel her heartbeat too, a gentle knock beneath my hand, and, a bit lower, the deliberate rise and fall of her belly, alternate to my own. 

In ... and out.

She smells like wildflowers and fresh grass and sweat, along with her own natural perfume — reminiscent of woody, sticky-sweet vanilla beans — and touched with that distinct coppery hint of sun-baked skin, despite it being dark now. I love the way she smells. In my mind's eye, her scent creates a kaleidoscope of vivid greens, bright pinks, and light purples, and white with flecks of deep yellows and gold. Stunning to behold, like springtime itself, but still pale in comparison to the real-life depth and sparkle of her eyes as she watches me watching her until I let my eyelids drift shut.

In ... out...

It's a ritual we share. Something to keep us connected on an even deeper level than what we already have. Through Autumn and Winter, when she's home with me, we maintain a strict schedule for it. Kind of ironic, considering the nature of this exercise. During the Spring and Summer, when she's away, like now, things are a little more complicated. 

In...

We try to keep as close to our regular arrangement as possible, at least once a month, but having to sneak around Demeter and her flock of nymphs can be a bit of a challenge. At this point, though, I feel like they all know and are just trying to make it difficult on purpose as a silent form of protest.

Out...

My senses are suddenly pierced by a quick, shallow sniffle. The sound lends itself so perfectly to the chirping crickets and buzzing cicadas around us that, had I not felt it, I might have missed it. That bothers me, probably more than it should.

"Doin' alright, Sweetness?" I ask quietly, keeping my eyes shut while the knuckles of my free hand coast along her thigh. Sometimes, when we've been apart too long, the sensations get to be too much and we have to slow things down. Not that we're going fast to begin with, this isn't about tearing each other's clothes off and fucking into oblivion — though that's another immensely enjoyable facet to our relationship.

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk," Persephone whispers back. 

I can feel her fingertips barely ghosting over my jaw and lips and can't help it when a low chuckle disrupts my measured breaths. "Just checking."

"Shhh." She presses one finger more firmly over my mouth.

I guess that means I'm finished speaking for now. I chuckle again and press a kiss to the dainty barricade, allowing the tip of my tongue to sneak a taste — another rule broken. I'm not good at sticking to rules when it comes to her and I can't help but wonder if I can get her talking again before we're 'allowed.' I love her voice — like how you would imagine a ripened peach would sound if it could talk. Rich, velvety, and intricately sweet, sometimes a little tart. Either way, we'll talk more later — usually babbled nonsense — when our brains won't be so distracted by the words being said, instead taking pleasure in the little noises and vibrations themselves. Right now, though, is just for elevating physical connection.

It's been several minutes now and I finally let my hand drift from between the envelope of her breasts, through the dewy moisture that collected where my palm had rested. I trace the pads of my fingers down the midline of her torso, then over the round swell of her hips — I think I can feel the shallow striae that mark her there — and back up along the fluted rows of her ribcage. I love the way she feels. I'm always enchanted by how soft she is — like a rose petal, or like she's been dusted with fine powder. Tonight is no different, even with the steamy, breathless air.

My other hand joins in the exploration, mirroring the first one's path, ascending her side. Persephone shivers under my touch as the backs of my fingers slowly stroke the supple curves of her breasts, causing goosebumps to lend a temporary roughness to her skin. Knowing it's me that does this to her excites me in ways I never knew was possible before she came into my life. It's thrilling and sends a jolt straight through me.

Both of her hands are moving now too — coasting, light as down feathers, along my collarbones, sweeping out across my shoulders before returning to trace the prominent muscles of my neck. She always seems fascinated by the defined ridges that flank either side of my throat. I think she likes the way they tighten every time I swallow, but I always forget to ask.

Back home, this part can last for hours, but here we have a very limited window before someone comes looking for her. So it's no surprise to me when I feel the slight pressure and heat of her opened mouth against my larynx, nor am I surprised by the gentle dabbing of her tongue there, but it affects me all the same. A frisson of pleasure slices down my spine and splinters out through my limbs, causing me to erupt in a full body shudder — despite the warm temperature. My skin feels too tight, peppered with thousands of tiny contractions beneath that tingle like a spray of delicate pinpricks. I shiver again.

Persephone is pleased. I know because she's grinning against my jaw. I love her smile. She's the only being I have ever or will ever trust with their teeth pressed into my flesh. It's a thrilling sort of fear — not the kind to avoid, but the kind to seek out. The kind that heightens every feeling and sharpens every instinct. The kind that leaves a raw and tender vulnerability in its wake, and yet you _know_ you are completely safe. It's the second most intoxicating thing I've ever experienced — her love for me being the first. I've never actually told her about my daknophobia, because more than the fear itself, I'm afraid she'll stop. She's too considerate for her own good, and I lo—

_Ohh~_

She's moving again. The flutter of her fingers dance low on my abdomen, so near the part of me that, right now, literally aches for her, making me twitch. I love the way she touches me, always so affectionately. Right now it's like a decadent torture, just barely stroking along either side of my groin and back up to my navel — just a whisper of contact. It would tickle if I wasn't so explicitly turned on.

"Tease." My voice is so raspy and shaky at this point that I don't think I sound like myself.

She hums into her smile. "You're breaking the rules again." She sounds just as high as I feel and the mellifluous waver in her accent has me damn near delirious.

I can't wait any more. It's been so long and I am weak.

When I pull her flush against me, it almost burns. The feeling of a near complete connection has me absolutely enthralled, to the point that it's almost enough to make me lose myself to her. Everything is amplified. The perfect harmonization of our low-pitched moans vibrates within my chest and echoes between my ears. It's been one of my favorite songs ever since the very first time I heard it. Persephone's body sings to mine. She feels incredible. Small and plump and soft, like a ripened fruit I wish I could sink my teeth into. The way she fits against me is the closest thing to Elysium I think I could ever experience. All of me is thrumming like a plucked cord. I'm not even inside her yet, but I'm pretty sure I could come just from this superficial level of contact.

We stick together, but it's fine. Even without our combined sweat from the muggy air acting as an adhesive, I doubt we'd try to separate. As it is, Persephone's trying to get even closer now, her hands fisting tight in my hair, making my scalp sting with what I can only describe as a dangerously sweet sort of pain. I love it. I love that she never tries to curb her enthusiasm for me. I wouldn't necessarily say I'm into pain, I'm just into her. Every morning after, I'd count myself lucky if the scratches down my back became my new scars. They never do, but that just encourages me to drive her even further next time. One of these days I'm going to be permanently marked from her love.

Conversely, I'm very careful to never mar her. Occasionally, I've left a few bruises in the wake of my ardor — a grip too tight or a fervent love bite —

_"Ah! Minx!"_

"You're doing that thing again. I had to bring you back," she purrs, her lips brushing my chest, just beside my twinging nipple, and a tune of mischief on her tongue.

A burred laugh rumbles out of me — I don't even try to contain it. "I swear, I was only thinking of you." She smells so good where I nuzzle against her temple. The same sweet and floral and metallic notes from before, but now entangled with the tangy, heady musk of her arousal. It makes my mouth water.

"Mm, maybe so," she coos, "but you _should_ be thinking about _us."_

Hot sparks rocket through my nerves and into my brain when she grinds her hips into mine. She's made her point and I tell her so as I keep her tight against me with a hand at the base of her spine. I can feel the little dimples that flank her there. Dimples of Venus, I've heard them called. I prefer to think of them as Dimples of Proserpina.

_"Ooh! Ha~des!"_

I love hearing her say my name like that, like she's drunk on the syllables themselves.

" _Kore~"_ I can't contain the gravelly moan that escapes me as I press my teeth to her neck, just below her ear. It's so tempting to bite down... _"Yesss,_ just like that... Move with me." 

The hot slick of her passion glazes me, trickling down my shaft like warm nectar. She rolls along my full length just as I slide through her folds while we whisper and gasp sweet and savory nothings to each other. It's the precursor to the finale. The harbinger of paradise. 

When I start to feel her legs quiver around me, I lift her — slowly. Significantly. This is not a rut. Not something so frivolous as a jovial fuck. This has so much more meaning. How to put it into words? I can't. I don't know how. It's just _more._

She's eye-level to me, so close we could almost bump noses, and her lashes flutter. I love the way she looks at me — like she needs me, even though we both know she doesn't. Not really. Persephone _wants_ me. She _chose_ me. That carries more weight, I think — to know that she's not with me just because she thinks she has no other options. I love that she doesn't need me, I love that she's strong and confident on her own, and I love that she still comes back to me, regardless.

Her arms hold me around my neck, I can feel her fingers caressing and threading my hair. I love the way she cares for me. My hands support her hips, thumbs stroking her skin. I quirk a little smile at her and she kisses me.

There's nothing little about our kiss. It's hot and eager. The heat between us puts the season around us to shame. Her breath puffs, almost desperately, against my cheek as her tongue fills my mouth and twines with mine — or maybe it's more accurate to say mine twines with hers. I'm not sure, but I know she likes that the end of it's forked. She's told me so with… _enthusiastic_ detail.

That thought makes me smirk against her lips before I draw the bottom one between my teeth. She would probably call me a scoundrel if she knew. She would absolutely be right. 

The wet heat pouring out of her makes my head swim as much as the juicy poppysmic of our sliding arousals. The anticipation has built to the point that my hands are shaking and it's all I can do not to plunge into her. I know she can feel it. I know it wouldn't upset her if I let my lust take over, but it would upset me, afterwards. I want to draw this out for as long as I can manage. So instead, I breathe, deep and rattling, and slowly lower her until our gentle nudging becomes an overwhelming engulfment.

My vision clouds and every touch is heightened. It feels like dying and being reborn at the same time as she sinks down on me until I'm fully hilted. Her euphoric moan awakens something inside me and I can't stop myself from biting her this time. My teeth clamp down on the firm muscle between her neck and shoulder and I hold there, sucking at her skin. She tastes like salt and honey, like earth and clover. She's a delicacy. Ambrosial in her own right. I love the taste of her. I'm addicted. 

Persephone pants and mewls right by my ear, her cheek pressing hard against mine. She's trying not to buck just as much as I am while I'm deep and still inside her. Her sheath grips me so tight I feel dizzy, but I just need to wait a little longer. I can already feel the beginnings of her first orgasm, the way her walls flutter around me, milking me, trying to pull me and goad me into moving. The speed and pitch of her breathing increases and she can't hold her hips steady anymore. She rocks against me, writhing in my hands. She's absolutely beautiful and my favorite song spears past her lips as she comes, crying her pleasure into the night, telling the world that I am the one who makes her feel this way. "Beautiful" actually doesn't even begin to describe her.

Finally, I move too — just barely at first. I can already tell that it won't take much for me. My voice always sounds strange to me when we do this — too low and guttural, or sometimes even too high. Either way, the noises I make as I help Persephone ride me serve to encourage more delighted keening from her. We feed off one another until I can no longer maintain this position.

The earth meets my back, knocking the air from my lungs, but I can't be bothered to care. Now I can give my queen what she wants. What we both want.

With a near savage growl, I drive up into her, my feet planted flat on the ground so that I can give her as much of myself as possible. She's clinging to me, bouncing, meeting me thrust for thrust. I can hear her chattering nonsense. Things like "Yes!" and "Harder!" and "Faster!" Pleading with The Elements and chanting my name. _Fuck!_ I love it when she says my name!

"Come for me again!" I don't think she can understand me. "Let me feel it! _Persephone!_ I _need_ to feel it! Fates! _Please!"_

_"HADES!"_ she screams out, tight and sharp, as her whole body clenches around mine.

That's all I can take. My wire trips and a roar tears from my throat as I come. I yank her down, flush against me, my hips grinding up into hers with every pulse of my release, like I could somehow merge us into one being, until I'm completely spent — too tired to move aside from my heaving chest trying to pull oxygen into my lungs.

Persephone goes limp on top of me and I press an exhausted kiss to the top of her head. It's several minutes before she stirs again, which causes me to slip out of her, followed by a rush of our fluids. She giggles and places her lips right over my heart. I can't help but smile. Even after all this time, she never abandons me after getting what she wants, because what she wants isn't just sex. She loves me. She wants this special connection with me and I will defend what we have between us until there is nothing left of me, because I love her and I love the way we love each other.


End file.
